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I considered it. “Except I have no idea what he does for a living. So that dirt might not matter.”
“But wouldn’t that explain why he hasn’t pushed for anything? If he didn’t have a reason to protect his own identity, he’d have sent you a picture by now.”
“Unless he’s catfishing me.”
Darren barked a laugh and elbowed me. “If he’s catfishing you, he’s seriously playing thelonggame.”
Pursing my lips, I stared up at the clock. Just over six minutes until I was gratefully distracted. “I… guess? Maybe?”
“So why not ask? Just throw it out there, and if he says no…” Darren half-shrugged like it was the most inconsequential thing in the world. “Then you keep going the way you’ve been going.”
He… might’ve had a point.
And now I was suddenly restless with that need to see Nick’s face and hear his voice. There was a connection between us—I couldfeelit—and if we took that connection offline, it could be amazing.
Or it could blow up in my stupid face.
Still, Darren’s comments needled at me. In fact, they needled me so much, I suddenly couldn’t think about anything else. And like hell was anything going to distract me fromhockey.
“Okay.Fine. You win.” I took out my phone again and pulled up the app. “I’ll message him.”
Darren chuckled and patted my arm. “Good luck, man. I hope it works out.”
As I thumbed out a message, I hoped so too.
And then I sent the message.
And…
Hell. So much for concentrating on hockey.
Chapter 2
Tanner
“So areyou ever going to actually meet this guy?” Bens—Nat Bennett—gestured at my phone with his glove.
I shoved my phone back into the pocket of the Pittsburgh Yellow Jackets windbreaker hanging in my locker stall. As I sat down, I said, “He’s just a friend.”
“Okay.” Bens dropped onto the bench as well and rubbed a towel over his sweaty face and hair. “So he’s a friend. Why not meet him?”
I took a swig of Gatorade. “He’s anonlinefriend.”
Bens cocked a brow. Then he shook his head and continued toweling himself off.
Fortunately, Coach picked that moment to start in on his intermission speech, which gave me an excuse to not continue this conversation.
Didn’t do much to get my concentration away from what Bens had said about Ian, though. Several of my teammates had suggested meeting him. They’d caught me smiling stupidly at my phone so many times, now they’d just say, “Tell Ian we said hi.” Every time I spent more than thirty seconds talking to a man they didn’t know, or if I posted a vacation photo with a new face in it—even if it was just a selfie with a fan—I’d get grilled about whether that was him.
Hell, their partners had gotten in on the action. Tami, Adamo’s wife, had declared last Thanksgiving that, “I can always tell when you’ve been talking to him.” She’d gestured at her own face. “The way you smile—it’s a dead giveaway.”
“Aaron and I met online,” Emily, who was engaged to Bucks, told me. “It’s always kind of scary to meet someone, especially if you’ve already made a connection, because they might not live up to it. But sometimes…” She’d grinned and held up her left hand, indicating the giant rock on her third finger. “It works out!”
I got that. I really did. And the truth was, I’d have loved to meet Ian in person. Or even see a photo of him. I wished I could work up the courage to send a photo of myself. Hell, just enough courage to tell him my real name.
Not that he’d believe me.
But man, the thought of talking face to face did things to my heart I couldn’t quite define. Sometimes I thought I had feelings for him. Sometimes I thought that was stupid, because how could I have feelings for someone I’d never even met? And then other times I’d shut all that down becauseno shitI had feelings for Ian. It didn’t matter that all I had was words on a screen. He was funny, and smart, and we could rant and rave about politics and hockey and never get bored.
